


nightlights

by sannlykke



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, M/M, Treat Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 20:48:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13667010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sannlykke/pseuds/sannlykke
Summary: Mayuzumi and that time he just can't fucking spit it out, because he has no feelings, or something.





	nightlights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kornevable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kornevable/gifts).



> i guess rakuzan is a spy agency now

“Oi, Mayuzumi.”

“…”

“I know you’re awake, asshole.”

 _Hey, shut the fuck up_. Mayuzumi shifts around on the shitty, creaking bed, until he’s face-to-face with his bedmate, who’s currently sporting quite the annoyed look. “It’s two in the morning.”

Nijimura is unmoved by this fact. “Which means we should get going.”

Mayuzumi yawns.

“Hey, I mean it.”

“You’re really sure someone’s gonna barge in and murder us, aren’t you.” Still, he moves himself out of Nijimura’s reach in case the other were to suddenly shove him off the bed. Not uncommon, even without certain events that often arose prior to that situation. “Are you still mad about what happened in Shenzhen.”

The next look Nijimura levies at him is enough to get him going.

 

 

Fact is, everything about this job sucks ass.

(Everything, after the initial excitement of getting roped into an underground agency fades into jaded annoyance at every new mundane assignment thrown on his desk. That includes his partner, even if Nijimura’s kind of cute _sometimes_ and occasionally they do things they shouldn’t while on the job, but—)

It’s how Mayuzumi finds himself inching along a dimly-lit hallway with Nijimura up in a tree somewhere outside the industrial complex, muttering into his earpiece. “I said go _left_ , not right—”

“I know what I’m doing,” Mayuzumi growls back, wanting very much to rip out the janky piece of plastic. It doesn’t matter that Nijimura’s got a more senior position, he’s still a brat. The _real_ issue would be dealing with Akashi, who’s become, for lack of better terms, quite concerned about their partnership. “There were heat sensor traps on that side.”

“You have literally zero body heat.”

“Shut up.”

He frowns at the sudden sound of footsteps further down the hall. Though it sounds like no more than half a dozen of them, there’s no use in taking chances. “Heading to the control room first.”

As expected, Nijimura makes an exasperated noise, but he gives Mayuzumi the information anyway. “There’s two of them; one guy inside and another standing guard.”

“Right.”

“If you die Akashi’ll have my ass, you know.”

“That belongs to me,” Mayuzumi snaps, then disconnects before Nijimura could scramble for a comeback.

 

 

They get out of the job without the entire place exploding this time.

“You should get that shoulder checked out,” Mayuzumi says, both hands on the steering wheel, the retrieved disc safely in his pocket. The checkpoint mission control had wired them is remote enough that they’d have to drive, but he’s never liked doing it. “Shit could get infected.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, right.”

He could see Nijimura rolling his eyes in the rearview mirror as the car comes to a stop at a light. “Keep your eyes on the road.”

“You’re bleeding all over the fucking backseat.”

“’s not your car.”

“Fuck you,” Mayuzumi mutters, pulling off into an open but quiet side road. He’s sure he’s since lost whatever people the other guys had sent after them after switching cars twice and being dragged through the still-neon streets of downtown Tokyo (even at four-thirty in the morning.) One bullet had gone through Nijimura’s right shoulder, and the other had buried itself into his forearm. It’s not enough to kill him, but at this point Mayuzumi’s feeling shitty enough to climb into the backseat. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Keep driving,” Nijimura tells him, a little sterner, but he doesn’t fight off Mayuzumi’s attempts at getting a better look at him. Up close, under the dim streetlights, it does look a little better than what he’d seen dragging Nijimura out of the mess in the control room. “It’s _fine_. You don’t—”

“—nobody’s gonna blow us up here,” Mayuzumi says, flipping open the hidden compartment on the side and fishing around for the medical box. “Change it yourself if you don’t want me touching you.”

Nijimura frowns as he takes the roll of gauze. “That’s not what I meant.”

Sighing, Mayuzumi closes his eyes. “Look, I—back there—thanks.”

“No wonder the new recruits say you don’t have feelings,” Nijimura replies, with a little more humor than needed. He winces a little as he rips off his bloodied bandages, carefully rolling them up for later disposal. “Or is that another result of Rakuzan’s rumor mill?”

“That’s rich coming from him,” Mayuzumi grumbles, knowing full well Akashi’s left those rumors unchecked just to keep the new kids on their toes. Nijimura’s habit of jumping headlong into the fray whenever something goes wrong has too been long known (though not as tolerated); Mayuzumi just hadn’t expected it to happen like _that_. He watches his partner expertly tidy up his wound, now that they’re in a somewhat less dire situation. “Okay, so you’re not dead.”

“Told you I was fine,” Nijimura says, throwing the gauze back at Mayuzumi after he’s done. He’s smiling too, that bastard. “Too bad for you, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Mayuzumi mutters, leaning in for the inevitable kiss of victory. “Too bad for me.”


End file.
